


Uh oh

by Anonymous



Series: Wee Omens [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Coming In Pants, Desperation, Dry Humping, Frottage, Humping while wearing clothes that have been peed in, Light BDSM, M/M, Omorashi, Roleplay, Sub Aziraphale wetting himself I mean come on he's so cute, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Wet Humping, Wetting, bubble baths, sexy wiggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Aziraphale is working in his bookshop and has to shelve all the new books that have come in from a supplier before a deadline. He's really up against it, folks. Definitely no toilet breaks. Also Crowley is miracling new books to add to the piles of new books.





	Uh oh

**Author's Note:**

> This is filthy. Get in, pervs!

Aziraphale had been working flat out now for several hours, diligently stacking the new books in their proper location. The supplier had sent a vast batch of new releases and Aziraphale needed the boxes off his shop floor, and the contents where they ought to be, by 7pm that evening. The only trouble was, for every pile he got through, another one appeared. And he'd had rather a lot of tea. 

His leg jiggled as he opened another box - a variety of travel guides and in depth literature on exotic places. The angel glanced at the clock. It was 6.45pm and he'd promised Crowley he'd be done by 7pm, and wouldn't need to take any breaks. He knew Crowley would be cross if he let him down, and he still had so many to go. He focused harder. There was absolutely no way he could give in and take a bathroom break now. He could still hold it. 15 minutes was nothing! He'd already gone a good 5 hours.

Crowley had been watching from behind the audio books, with growing pleasure, as Aziraphale wiggled and shimmied about most of the afternoon, irascibly reading the spines, and dashing to where each book should be deposited. By this point, his pouty angel was shifting dramatically from leg to leg in front of the boxes, in front of the shelves, and any time he had to give any real consideration to where certain books should go. Problem was, sometimes the books were multi-genre _and_ multi-author. Crowley loved this. It meant the angel would squirm and hold himself while he furiously tried to work out which section and author to shelve the book in. 

_It was only a matter of time_, thought Crowley. 1_5 minutes to go, three boxes of new books to shelve_. It was realistically achievable, provided the angel thought clearly and acted quickly. Unfortunately, Crowley's angel was growing increasingly distracted, his mind foggier.

Aziraphale pulled out a work of non fiction which appeared to combine physics and travel. He muttered something under his breath and rocked from side to side as he scanned the cover. He appeared to make a decision and go towards the science books, when he swore and turned on his heel, apparently realising it was more of a travel theme. But the sharp turn undid him. With a gasp, he froze, bending his knees a little. Crowley held his breath as he watched the angel hold himself tightly, face screwed up. Aziraphale bit his lip and whimpered, pressing his thighs together. Even in the dim candle light, Crowley could see a wet spot grow rapidly in the crotch of the angel’s trousers. _Whoops._ The yellow eyes followed the spreading stain as it seeped down one thigh. 

‘No no no…’ murmured Aziraphale, regaining control for a moment. He covered the wetness with his hand and shook his leg out, looking very put out. He straightened up, and walked the book over to the correct shelf. 

Crowley could hear the sound of his angel brushing the damp trousers down, as if that would make everything okay. Then he saw him emerge again, and pick up a bunch of books that looked like they could belong to the same family, and march them over to the same section.

Technically it was cheating, but the poor angel had just wet his pants a little bit, so Crowley couldn't be too cross with him. In fact, Crowley decided he didn’t need to miracle up the pile anymore. He had a feeling his work was done. His angel was still twitching and wriggling while trying to complete his task.

Not many now...

Crowley watched with fascination and dizzy with arousal as his angel became increasingly breathless and distracted, despite being close to finishing the challenge. There was no more apparent wetting, but the wiggling was next level. Nevertheless the angel managed to shelve the new books, all bar one. Crowley wondered if he'd mismanaged the challenge, but remained hypnotised by the little jiggles and jerks.

Aziraphale was now trying to properly shelf a hardback book on Tanzania. He hopped from foot to foot, one hand now steadfastly holding himself, as he tried to find the exact home for the book and author. It was complicated. There were two authors and they’d written four books on Tanzania, and it wasn't technically a travel book as much as a history book. Poor Aziraphale squeaked, and crossed his legs. Crowley grinned from ear to ear, and palmed himself through his jeans. 

The little gasps and whimpers became louder and louder as Aziraphale began to lose the battle between clarity of thought and controlling his bladder. His mind was evaporating. He uncrossed his legs and bent his knees again. The angel’s inner trouser legs darkened for a moment and Crowley almost groaned. Then, with one valiant reach to a shelf that was just a little too high for him, Aziraphale tried his best to push the book into its rightful location. It was clumsy, but he did it. 

‘Ha!’ he exclaimed. 'All done!' That was it. He made a dash towards the toilet, but it was too late. His bladder cramped and prevented him from moving at all.

The wave that came was a powerful surge, his muscles pushing against him. He bent over and thrust both hands between his legs, but it made no difference. He panicked and quickly lowered himself to the floor so he was sitting on his heels, as if he would somehow be able to conceal the fact he was wetting himself thoroughly. He groaned in terrible bliss as he soaked himself, like a warm bidet, and found with all his heart that at this particular moment, he really didn’t care. A puddle spread beneath him. 

Crowley nearly came in his pants. He was humping his hand as he watched. Oh that _naughty_ angel. He’d done so well, but not quite made it. The loss of control was the sexiest thing Crowley could remember. He tried not to bring himself off there and then.

Aziraphale was still wetting, and quite blissed out. He breathed deeply as the flow began to ebb. His face was flushed. His trousers were drenched. His bottom was wet. The puddle was warm. The relief made him swoon. But then he remembered his promise to Crowley, and felt like he’d been a very naughty angel, and there he was, just sitting there, as if pretending he hadn’t done it. He kept his hands in his lap and hoped the low lighting made it all less obvious. 

Crowley appeared from behind one of the large panels of shelving, emanating dominance, his erection as clear as day in his tight black jeans, and his yellow eyes foggy.

‘Angel,’ came the demon’s gravelly voice. ‘Why are you sitting on the floor? Is there something you want to tell me?’

Aziraphale played along, his groin tingling. ‘No,’ he answered sweetly, and falsely. My legs were aching so I sat down.’

‘Oh, poor angel. Working too hard?’ said Crowley seductively, his eyes taking in the golden, forbidden vision in front of him. 

Aziraphale nodded coyly, and looked up at the demon through his eyelashes. ‘I’d better just stay here for a bit,’ he said. ‘To rest my legs.’ He relaxed a little more, and his breath hitched as he felt another hot cascade start to flow throughout his clothing. His bladder still had work to do, it seemed. It was like an aftershock. He quickly grabbed the nearest, largest book from a shelf and opened it, shielding his misadventure from Crowley. He knew he was in trouble, you see. 

‘I’ll just read this while I’m here,’ he said nonchalantly, wetting himself more. He wiggled where he sat. His big blue eyes found Crowley’s as he saturated his crotch, further soaking his thighs, the puddle spreading. 

Crowley leaned in and plucked the book out of Aziraphale's hands with a simmering look. he cast it aside. Aziraphale quickly put his white hands back over his darkened trousers.

Crowley gave a lopsided smile. There was his angel, sitting in a puddle, _innocently_ pretending he hadn't had a mishap. The demon's cock twitched.

‘I’m waiting for you to tell me the truth, _ Aziraphale,’ _said Crowley, in a tone that might have made the angel wet himself if he hadn’t already done so.

‘I misjudged…’ Aziraphale squirmed and whimpered, batting his eyelashes. 

‘I’ve been watching you get antsier and antsier for ages,’ chided Crowley gently. ‘I told you not to have that second cup of tea when you had so much work to do. Tut tut tut.’

The angel blushed. He was getting hard under Crowley's stern glare. What was he going to do?

The demon crouched down in front of him, eyes still boring into him, and gently moved the angel's hands out of the way. ‘Let me see,’ said Crowley softly, as if it was just a tiny wet spot rather than a full puddle. He placed a hand on the sopping trousers and tutted again. The angel’s full indiscretion was revealed, or rather, just undeniable.

Crowley gave him a devilish look as a reprimand, then stroked his face with his other hand. ‘Poor angel,’ he breathed. ‘You made a little mistake and wet yourself. It’s okay. Happens to the best of us...’ He planted a sweet kiss to Aziraphale's forehead, and the angel felt blissfully little for a moment. ‘But I will have to punish you for not being more careful,’ said Crowley, his eyes flashing as he gave his angel a wicked grin.

Aziraphale snapped out of feeling little and hungrily kissed Crowley. He noticed the demon grip himself. Crowley was no longer fully hard.

'Right now...’ he said. 'I need to go myself.' He urged Aziraphale to lean back so he was lying on top of him. 'Can't let you have all the fun,' he rasped. He took Aziraphale’s wrists in his hands and pinned them above the angel’s head. ‘This is for trying to hide your accident from me. For telling naughty little lies while weeing in your clothes. For making a puddle on the floor and sitting in it.’ Then Crowley was kissing him again, getting comfortable and relaxing his weight against the soft, wet angel beneath him. He stilled, and groaned obscenely.

Aziraphale felt a burning hot deluge rush between them and moaned in pleasure at the renewed wet heat spreading over his groin. Crowley was wetting his pants. 

‘Oh, _ Crowley _.’ The angel sighed, sensing the demon’s relief, and adoring it. He was achingly hard so very fast.

‘_ Angel _,’ intoned Crowley, nuzzling his neck. ‘Oh that's good. Just you remember who you belong to!’ He stopped relieving himself, and decided to indulge the other urgency. He was fully hard again and they were panting together.

Aziraphale lifted his hips, grinding against Crowley, aroused beyond thought by all the sensations. The look of bliss on Crowley’s face made him rut desperately. All that pressure and pleasure for so many hours, all those muscles clenching and undulating, dampening his underwear so very slightly, and the ecstasy of finally fully wetting himself and now being pinned down by his demon... he wanted to come, he needed to come, it had been right there _all day_...

He orgasmed, creaming his wet underwear with a powerful cry, writhing beneath Crowley. Witnessing this drove Crowley quite mad. The demon started humping wildly to finish what he’d started some hours ago whilst watching his angel wiggle and wet. His squirmy, pouty, naughty angel who sat down and wet his pants in the middle of the shop, then lied about it, so that Crowley would _handle_ him. Crowley had never felt so much like a beast in his life, and he was damn well going to come like one. Still holding his angel in place, he snapped his hips frantically, grinding in his wet jeans. The friction was white hot. 

‘I’m going to… I’m going to… I’m going to…’ he repeated and repeated until his body took over so violently that he almost lost consciousness. He came, shooting his load through his jeans, and completing the absolute messiest, wettest, and naughtiest activity the two had ever participated in. As Crowley came down and his penis softened, he allowed a final trickle of wee to seep out as an encore. Aziraphale grunted in appreciation, and they took a moment to recover. 

Crowley’s hands were now relaxed, resting on Aziraphale’s. They looked at each other, smiled at each other, and with a loving kiss, shared a miracle that cleaned and freshened the bookshop floor. They stumbled to their feet, and drowsily padded to the bathroom. Peeling each other’s clothes off was a delightful intimacy after such play. They kissed and nuzzled and soothed and stroked, until they were both naked and it was time for a bubble bath, complete with rubber ducks. 

And the best bit about being angels and demons who love earthly pleasures, is miracling a hot bath so it stays just the right temperature indefinitely, while you tend to your respective angel or demon. So the bubble bath lasted several days, complete with champagne, and continual kisses, as they plotted their next naughty game.


End file.
